Hannibal, Missouri, H-Town, H-tizzle... Hell hole.

No matter what you choose to affectionately refer to the town as, it doesn't change the simple dichotomy between the classes; the classy and the trashy. 

Hannibal is a small country town, nestled in the eastern side of Missouri. The population ranges somewhere between 17,000-18,000, leaning slightly closer to the lower end of the spectrum.  Known as a "tourist town", people travel from far and wide to get a glimpse of our downtown, the home to a plethora of Mark Twain memorabilia and relics.  

Growing up in Hannibal was fun.  I was raised in the country about 20 minutes outside of town, so I knew what it was like to get down and dirty.  Playing outside in the mud, swimming through creeks, running through pastures filled the majority of my time.  When I got older, drinking beer by a bonfire, riding fourwheelers down gravel roads, drinking beer out on the river, and any activity that we could contort to include consuming alcohol filled my time.

I grew up, I got out.  I realized fairly quickly in high school that getting out of Hannibal is what I needed.  I would never make it far in my little town.  I could work at Wal-Mart, County Market, or maybe the hospital.  Or there was always the option of being a bartender or factory worker.  

Going back to Hannibal is definitely going back home.  I get that warm fuzzy feeling when I pull into town.  Maybe it's because I know that my family is there waiting for me, maybe it's because I know I'm going to get into some good old fashion trouble, or maybe it's because I'm drunk... which I have to be to go back to that place.

Over a week ago I ventured back to Hannibal, my 2 lb miniature wiener dog in tow.  From the get-go, I knew I was set for trouble.  


[check out my other blog, FASHION REHAB - http://fashionrehabbed.blogspot.com/ ]